IT was a warm, sunny Sunday morning, and consequently Robbie Ellsworth was allowed to go to church. This was quite a luxury to him, because he had but recently recovered from the measles, and his mother was rather afraid to have him go.

The notices were all given out, at least so the people thought, when the minister announced that there would be a meeting of the congregation the next day, to raise money for a new church. That building, they saw, was altogether too small, and he did hope they would get a new one started very soon, as a lot was donated in a fine location.

Then came the sermon. It was about little things. Robbie listened attentively, as the minister told how many great things had been started and helped by little boys and girls, and by people with little money or talent.

At the dinner table Robbie’s father remarked, “How anxious Dr. Sullivan is for a new church! But he won’t get it—not very soon, anyway. The people don’t care enough about it, though I’m sure they need one badly.”

“Dear me!” thought Robbie to himself, “I do wish Dr. Sullivan could get the new church. I’m sure he ought to have it if he wants it.”

“He wants a brick one,” Mr. Ellsworth continued, “but in my opinion a frame building would do this time. Brick costs too much.”

“I wish he could have a brick church,” thought Robbie. “It would be so much nicer.”

Then he went to thinking about what Dr. Sullivan said in his sermon, and pretty soon he began to wonder if he couldn’t help with the new church. All the afternoon he thought about it, and finally a plan came into his little mind, which he thought of so much that he could hardly sleep that night. But he didn’t want anybody to know anything about it, so he went to sleep as fast as he could.

Fortunately for his plans, Monday was as pleasant as Sunday, and about ten o’clock Robbie went to Mrs. Ellsworth.

“Mamma, I want to go take a walk,” he said.

“Why, Robbie dear, you would get lost.”

“But I only want to go around to Uncle Will’s,” pleaded the little fellow.

Now Uncle Will was a doctor, a great favorite with his little nephew, and he lived only around the corner, in the new house which he had just built.

“I think you may go, then,” said Mrs. Ellsworth, “as you don’t have to cross the street to get there. I am going down to papa’s office, and will tell him to stop for you when he comes home.”

“No, mamma,” said Robbie, “I’d rather not. I have a very much reason for wanting to come home alone.”

That was his way of saying he had a very good, and, in his eyes, important reason, which he didn’t want to give. So his mother agreed, kissed him good-by, and he started out, first getting his little green wheelbarrow from the hall closet.

He trudged along down one street, up another, till he stopped on the stone steps of “Uncle Will’s house,” and gave the bell such a pull as only a boy of about Robbie’s size knows how.

Aunt Flora greeted her small visitor very warmly, laughing at his wheelbarrow, but he pushed right by her, and trudged into Uncle Will’s office, pushing his wheelbarrow before him. Uncle Will was engaged in discussing the cholera germ with a brother physician, but he turned and welcomed his nephew cheerily:

“Well, my man! What can I do for you to-day? Will you cart a wheelbarrow of books around to the library for me?”

“Mamma wouldn’t let me,” said Robbie. “I came to see if you would let me have one wheelbarrowful of the bricks that were left over—out in the back yard.”

“Certainly,” said Uncle Will. “You can go right out and get them.”

So Robbie turned again, too eager to even thank his uncle, pushed his wheelbarrow through the dining-room, and was soon taking down bricks from the pile by the back stoop.

His barrow didn’t hold but about a half-dozen, and soon Irish Mary was lifting it up the steps, and he arrived again before his uncle’s door.

“Are they my very own, Uncle Will,” he asked, as that gentleman turned to look at his load, “to use just as I want to?”

“Your very own,” said the doctor, “to do what you please with. If you wish, you may throw them in the cistern. But what are they for?”

“I would rather not tell, Uncle Will.”

“Very well, sir. Success to your project, whatever it is.”

Down the steps bumped the wheelbarrow, with its owner behind, and down the street they went again, though this time on the other side of the block. There were not many pedestrians on the street, but the few Robbie met smiled at him and his load of bricks. He looked at all the houses attentively, and finally mounted the steps of one with difficulty, all the time afraid his bricks would fall out, and rang the bell a little more gently than he had at his uncle’s.

The Rev. Dr. Sullivan came to the door. He knew Robbie. “Good-morning, young man!” he said. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing,” said Robbie. “I’ve brought you the first load of bricks for the new church.”

“The new church!” said the doctor.

“Yes, sir. You said yesterday you wanted one, and papa said you wanted a brick one. So I’ve brought the first load. They’re my very own, sir, to use just as I want to.”

“Well, well!” said Dr. Sullivan, “I am very much obliged to you,” and Robbie thought his voice sounded almost as his did when he had the croup. Moreover, he took out his handkerchief and rubbed his eyes. Then he took the wheelbarrow in his arms, and having deposited the contents in his backyard, returned it to the owner. “The bricks shall be used, young man,” he said, “every one of them, for the new church. Thank you very much for your help.”

Then Robbie returned home, jubilant at having been able to help his minister.

As for the minister, he took a paper, and went out. The first man he met was Mr. Lawrence, the wealthiest person in his church.

“Mr. Lawrence,” he said, “we have started, and the first load of bricks for the new church has arrived.”

“Indeed!” said Mr. Lawrence, and after a little more talk he put down his name for quite a sum of money. Dr. Sullivan went on telling every one that the first load of bricks had arrived, and it was astonishing how encouraging those bricks were! When the congregation met that afternoon, their pastor announced that some hundred dollars had been raised for the church, and that the first load of bricks had come.

Of course it was a good while before the church was really built, for there were architects and masons and carpenters to be consulted; but it was really built, and it was not till then that the minister told who had furnished “the first load of bricks,” and how he really started the whole thing.

And the six bricks that Robbie had brought in his little wheelbarrow were built into the wall of the church, and everybody thanked him for his part of the work.

Now the best thing about this story is that it is all true. The minister’s name may not have been Dr. Sullivan, and the boy’s name may not have been Robbie Ellsworth, and his wheelbarrow may not have been green, but it brought the bricks that are in the “Brick Church,” as it is called, of one of the largest cities in the Eastern States.